Ain't No Damsel
by Allureofproductivity
Summary: Charlie should have left the minute she saw how messed up her CI was. But she didn't.
1. Chapter 1

There was blood everywhere. Saturating parts of her sheets, in her hair, dripping in lazy patterns on her floor like a macabre modern art piece come to life. The smell of copper was starting to make Charlie feel a little nauseated.

Hands pressed firmly against her recently ventilated side, her bloody hoodie newly discarded in a heap in her couch, which dammit Charlie you moron it at least wasn't bloodstained yet, she staggered wholeheartedly toward her closet, pushing all sane suggestions to call Johnny and tell him her C.I. had not had a decent acid trip today and decided playing with knives was a good idea to the far recesses of her brain. She was, after all, a full grown adult with the ability to bandage her own cuts. And anyways, how much damage could a paring knife do to a person? For Christ's sake it wasn't like she was a tomato.

"Shit."

She wasn't entirely sure how she had ended up sprawled on the floor in an ungainly pile of jellied limbs, but it was damn comfortable. Better than that standing and walking places mess she had attempted to perform earlier.

Jesus. Scratch that "a little nauseated" shit from earlier. More like she never wanted to eat again. And please, would the goddamn floor quit with the boat impersonation?

Charlie was pretty sure that the knife wound in her side wasn't all that serious. She couldn't really feel it anymore, so that was good. Right? Dumbass C.I. couldn't even stab good. Wait, wasn't she supposed to meet someone for lunch? She didn't know. She wasn't really sure what her own name was right now. Charles? Caroline?

Since when did they have a color changing ceiling?

Somewhere downstairs a door slammed and somebody yelled for her to "get your ass down here girl! I'm hungry and you said you wanted Hector's."

So that's who she was supposed to meet for lunch. She wasn't really hungry yet. Actually, she was really, really tired. Maybe she'd take a nap...

Cool. The ceiling was black now. Charlie decided she liked that new feature in the house. It could hang around. The continually moving carpet, however…

Johnny really needed to shut the fuck up. She was trying to sleep here, dammit!

Lazily, Charlie let her eyes slide shut.

It felt like she was falling. It felt kinda good.

And then it didn't feel anything anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright y'all. Time for chapter two. Also, if you feel so compelled, please leave a review after reading my story, as this is my first fanfiction and I would appreciate some CC. Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish.**

Whoever was shaking her shoulder was about to stop or get shot. And what all had she had to drink last night? Good lord. It felt like somebody had taken a sledgehammer to the side of her skull repeatedly and her stomach…Man that had to be one hell of a bender. And what was she lying in? She was cold and wet and she was seriously beginning to hate the smell of copper. Groaning, Charlie rolled to her side, mumbling nonsense.

Holy shit. Holy shit. The world beneath Charlie's eyelids turned into a sunburst of red and purple and she heard a raspy scream tear loose from her throat. Jackknifing into a sitting position only exacerbated the pain and tears streamed down her cheeks as she collapsed against something… soft?

"-easy. Take it easy baby. God Charlie, what the hell happened?"

Somewhere in her tortured consciousness the voice registered as Johnny and she let her head fall against his shoulder with a low, animalistic moan.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hey, open those pretty eyes for me. Come on Chuck, don't do this to me."

Dammit what was with the shaking? Her eyelids were coated in concrete or superglue or something and she wasn't sure opening them was a possibility. She rolled her forehead against the base of his throat in protest. Her headache increased with every movement and she was mortified when a whimper passed her dry lips. A finger touched her eyelid and then…

When the fuck did she turn into a vampire? She didn't remember the sun being so painful before. She forced herself to open the other eye, praying that the torture would be over if she just complied with Johnny. Everything swam in and out of focus, and oh shit there were five Johnnies. She could barely deal with one. The five Johnnies started to swim again and then thank God there was only one now and he was smiling at her in that adorable way of his.

"There we are!"

She wanted to smile or say something but the carpet was shifting and rolling again. She needed to get off the boat now. Like right now.

Johnny's smile morphed and wavered into a frown and then his mouth formed words but she couldn't hear them because her stomach was in her throat and oh no she was never gonna live this do-

Oh GOD. She didn't think the pain could get any worse but apparently the devil had a new hell in store for her. Tears streamed down her cheeks again and she could barely feel somebody rubbing her back. She couldn't breathe. Everything slowed down around her as she shook in warning of the second round of absolute agony. Was her entire body splitting in half?

Finally, _finally _she was running on empty. Johnny's voice pierced through the cotton blanket wrapped around her ears.

"You makin me nervous here Chuck. Look at me."

A rough hand cupped her chin and she did her best to look focused and alert. She failed. Johnny's hand went to his cell phone and he started firing questions at her.

"Did you hit your head?"

What? Her eyelids were heavy again. Couldn't she just sleep it off? Again with the shaking.

"CHARLIE!"

She forced her eyes open and glared as best she could at Johnny's stupid ass face.

"Did. You. Hit. Your. Head."

Ohhhh.

"No." God she sounded bad.

"Then you in some serious shock. Your pupils are blown, girl. You cold?"

"Mmhmm."

"There's blood everywhere. What happened?"

"Mmmmm."

"Hey. Hey. Gimmie some real answers. You gotta stay awake, babe."

He was moving her gently, trying not to jostle her side. She shifted. The floor was comfy.

"Dun wanna ge' up. J'hnny no."

He wasn't buying it, and in one swift and painful motion she was standing against him. She let out a yelp and her knees buckled. Damn him. Hey wait… was he carrying her now? Oh hell no. She pushed against his chest weakly, swinging her legs in a pitiful attempt to escape. She had her pride to look out for, after all.

"Uh uh. Stay still and let me do the work, alright? Just…focus on telling me what happened, ok?"

Oh Jesus. Sunlight. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and moaned in complaint. Then it got darker and a car door slammed. Ooo, the seat was soft.

"Whe' we goon?"

A hand rested lightly on her cheek. Ouch. Speed bump.

"Hospital."

"I dun wanna go t' 'ospil."

"I know Charlie. I know."

God, who tied bricks to her eyelids? Her head hurt. Why did her head hurt if she got… wait, what happened to her again? Aw fuck it. She was sleeping, and no dumbass named Johnny was gonna stop her.

"Hey. EYES OPEN CHARLES."

Again with the shaking. He was gonna get a pistol butt to the backside of his head soon. But right now, she was too tired and… hungover? Sick? Aw shit, who cared?

"J'hhnyyyy.." God, was that her voice? And who had a red hot poker pressed against her side? She wanted it gone _now._

_ "J'hhhhyyyyyyyyyyy!"_

"Oh shit. Briggs. I gotta go man. She's gettin' worse. Almost there, Almost there. No not you. Yeah. We're here. Yeah, yeah, I'll call you with the update. Bye man."

"Uuhhhhdunfelgoo'"

Jesus, why did he have to move her around so much? And since when were cars so loud and… disinfectant-y?

And oh God no where was he going he couldn't leave her here and she was pretty sure she was screaming and crying and where was he oh god oh god was that a needle no no needles no heroin nonononoNO.

The falling feeling was back and this time, it didn't feel good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Anddd… on to chapter 3! **

She was choking. Jesus Christ why was she choking? That was definitely not her preferred method of functionality, so whoever had their hands around her neck was going down. Good luck, bitch.  
She couldn't move her arms. Ok, what the hell was going on? She distinctly (read:fuzzily) remembered not being kidnapped by any drug lords recently, so WHY ON EARTH WAS SHE IN RESTRAINTS? She definitely, under any circumstances, was not panicking. Absolutely not. She, Charlie Demarco, did not do panic. She was simply reActing to the situation at hand. And, as far as she was concerned, that situation involved a seriously thorough ass-kicking and hopefully a relatively rough arrest. But first, whatever was jammed down her throat and suffocating her slowly and painfully (the pathetic bastards didn't even know how to suffocate people. these were some shittastic drug lords) needed to be removed from the very blurry picture. Maybe she should open her eyes. Yeah, that was probably a safe bet.  
Oh no. Oh sweet Jesus. Would someone please turn off the damn fluorescent hellbeam descending from the friggin ceiling?  
Somebody was talking to her, telling her to stop fighting it, it would be gone in a second, she just needed to listen. Well, they could go... Oh man she didn't know. It was so loud and so bright and oh god somebody please please help her before she lost it completely.  
"Move! Move! If you want her to calm down, you might want to get the hell out of my way so she can actually see my shining face."  
Aw man. They had Johnny? She was so, so incredibly, royally fucked.  
And then he was right there, practically holding her like a baby and saying her name over and over. She calmed down a little and he smiled. God she loved that smile.  
"Welcome back to the land of the living, baby."  
She was still choking. Couldn't he see that she was choking? Why couldn't she move her hands? She tossed her head restlessly, eyes rolling. Why wouldn't he help her?  
No more smile. Just a frown.  
"Hey, take it easy. You're in a hospital, alright? The doctors just need you to chill so they can take the tube out. I'll be right here the whole time. I promise."  
Tube? What tube? But she didn't have time to find out before someone who was distinctly not Johnny got into her line of vision as well and grabbed her fingers.  
"Catherine, I'm doctor Sanchez."  
Nobody called her Catherine and lived.  
"Do you want the tube out? Squeeze my hand if you want it out."  
Hell yes she wanted it out. She squeezed his hand as hard as she possibly could. She hoped it hurt.  
"Ok, we're taking it out now. Blow as hard as you can."  
She was pretty sure her face was purple. The thing made a nasty squelching sound and hit the back of her tongue, making her gag and roll to her side, coughing.  
Well damn. Maybe rolling to her side was a poorly thought out plan, because apparently there was an iron on in her bed or chair or prison cell thing. The doctor was squeezing her hand again.  
"Better?"  
"Yeah." She sounded like one of Paige's weed smoking, tree hugging CIs. Her throat hurt. Maybe she was sick.  
She tried to reach for Johnny. Oh right, restraints. Oh shit. Restraints.  
"Get them off."  
"Get what off?"  
"Get them OFF!" She didn't know she could hit that note on the scale. Cool. She was positive that the person in the room breathing all wonky was her. Was she hyperventilating? Yeah.  
"Doc, get the restraints off her! And for Chrissake, there do not need to be this many people in here anymore."  
Ahhh, sweet freedom. Somebody was wrestling her into one of those nose prong tube thingies. She decided she could live with that. Breathing was a little bit hard right now. She should probably try to focus her eyes.  
There was Johnny, the same old dude from before, and... Why in the hell was Paige crying? Something was against her mouth. Oh. It was a straw. Thank you Jesus. She gulped a little too fast and started to cough. Ouch. Was the bed moving? Why was her head all spinny? Look at that, she was sitting up. Was she still coughing?  
After a few hours (minutes) of trying to swallow a lung, she turned to Johnny.  
"Wha' 'appen to me?" Ok, no more talking for Charlie.  
"Well-"  
The old guy butted in. She supposed he was the doctor. Well, duh, Charlie.

"Catherine, you were brought in with a severe laceration to the stomach. The gash in question was roughly 11 inches long (damn) and four inches deep. It took 40 stitches to close completely (beat that Mikey). You suffered from severe hypovolemic shock and stayed in a comatose state for a week. Yesterday you became semi responsive (what the hell does that even entail) and began to fight the vent this morning."  
Apparently she was a tomato.  
"I was... in a coma? For a week?" Well shit. No wonder Paige looked so upset.  
"Yeah Chuckie. Have any mystical visions of heaven or somethin?"

**So, guys… I was considering making this a relatively complex, extended fic with some serious plot twists. Would you like to see that come out of this beginning or would you prefer a more fluffy and soft ending in a few chapters? Review or shoot me a PM with your input!**

**Stay Shiny! **

**Allure**


	4. Chapter 4

A week. A damn week? For one measly poke with a paring knife? She really needed to have a talk with herself about common sense, because Shit! That was a long ass time!  
"But..." God. She sounded like a baby. Her throat hurt. And her head. And her side.  
Johnny squeezed her hand and turned her cheek gently to force her to look him in the eye. Was that worry? Damn. She didn't even want to know how bad she looked right now. Probably like death warmed over. She sure as hell felt like it.  
"Chuckie? Hey, you alright babe?"  
"Hurts." Baby Charlie returns! Jesus, was she ever pathetic? The answer was a definite yes, but right now the all-encompassing, mind numbing pain in oh, everywhere took precedence over her shattered reputation.  
"What hurts? Charlie, you gotta answer me with words, babe. Words."  
Goddammit. That was her moaning and whimpering.  
"My side an' m'ead hurts." Why were the lights so bright again? She was mewling like a kitten now. What the hell were they pumping into her? It was turning her mind to squishy, whatever it was.  
The world was softening slowly. Funny. That light wasn't a damp haze of pinks and yellows earlier, the edges of the room softening and spinning into a rope of fluff. God, she was cozy now that the pain had faded into a pressurized hum beneath a snowcap of white taped to her side.  
Johnny's voice was sinking through the ocean to reach her ears.  
"Better?" Vibrations ticked across her skull with each syllable.  
She nodded her bowling ball head sluggishly. God, was she starving! Maybe she could eat the Nutella glooping around her limbs and filling her ears, holding her here.  
"Go to sleep, Chuck." The end of a subway tunnel. There was a train coming. She could hear the slice of electricity and streamlined metal.  
The dumbbells attached to her eyelids were sinking down towards her cheeks, metallic clinks and pings dragging her deeper and deeper into the lake.  
She let herself sink.  
*page break*  
Something warm was brushing across her cheeks and forehead, dragging her to the surface of her drug induced nap. Was she tangled in her surfboard leash , or was there an elephant on her chest? Either way, it was vaguely unpleasant. She must have swallowed some salt water. Her throat was raw and crackly. She couldn't really breathe well. Maybe it was allergy season.  
She should open her eyes.  
Blinking the world into some semblance of focus was a little bit harder than anticipated. And would someone please turn off the air conditioning? It was freezing in here!  
"There she is! Glad you could join us, babe."  
Briggs was sprawled awkwardly in a plastic chair, long legs tangled together as he tried to get comfortable. Mikey was leaning near the doorframe, coffee in hand, and grinning at her like an idiot. Poor kid. Paige was perched haphazardly on the edge of the narrow hospital bed, her soft hands still twining and weaving their way through the sweaty, dark wisps of hair tangled in Charlie's eyelashes and looping around her earlobes. Where was Johnny?  
"Hi." Jesus, she had no voice left! Did that even qualify as a whisper? She sounded like an old stereo, cracking and popping every time she dragged in a whistling lungful of air.  
The simple word had sent her choking and coughing. Holy hell. Her lungs were on fire. Thick sludge rattled through her ribcage and coated her tongue. There was no air in this room and she was gasping like a fish to prove it. Shit. Her head was pounding in time to her racing pulse, pressure slowly increasing behind her squeezed shut eyes until she was sure her head would burst. Whimpering like a kicked puppy was embarrassing.  
She needed someone to hold on to. Grabbing at air really sucked and she flailed wildly, desperately attempting to find something solid. No, why was the bed moving. Her head pounded even harder, tears streaking down her cheeks with each wheezing choke.  
Eons later, thank heavens, her choking/dying/asthma attack or whatever the hell it was finally, blessedly ceased. God, she was going to die. The bass drum in her head was reaching seismic levels and OH SWEET JESUS something warm and heavy was oozing sickeningly down her side and through her bandages. She must have popped a stitch or two. Or, you know, all of them.  
A callused, warm palm cupped her cheek, Briggs' tan forehead gently bumping hers. She leaned into his touch as he drew his face away. Damn. That felt good. She was still breathing like she'd just run a goddamn marathon.  
Time to attempt to communicate.  
"Wha' 'aszat?"  
Attempt: failed.  
Apparently not totally.  
"Pneumonia. You woke up with a fever about 5 hours ago for about 5 minutes, long enough to tell Johnny you didn't feel good and then proceed to cough up half a lung. That's when they decided to run some tests."  
"Whe' Jhnny?"  
"We sent him home. He needed a shower and some decent sleep. He'll be back in a few hours."  
Why was her side damp? Oh yeah, bleeding. Shit. She should probably tell somebody.  
"Bri's?"  
The hand stroked around her temple gently.  
"Yeah, babe?"  
"I 'leedin'."  
Somebody must have lit a sparkler under his ass or something because she had never seen Briggs move quite so fast.  
Hey. That was not cool. She was cold, dammit. Give the blanket back.  
Well fuck. Since when did she have red sheets? And red skin, for that matter.  
"DAMMIT. Mike. Nurses station. Go NOW."  
Why was he taking his shirt off?  
Oh hell no. That hurt. Briggs had better take that nasty ass ball of cloth off of her stab wound before she decked him. Did she just yelp?  
Paige was desperately trying to calm her down and Briggs was... swearing?  
"Dammit dammit dammit. Just hold on, Chuckie. Stay awake, ok? It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be ok."  
Briggs' desperate pleading fell away, and then she was alone.

**I am a bad person. I neglected y'all for, what, two weeks? I promise I wasn't trying to be a bitch or something, I was just busy. I'm sorry. AHHHH LAST WEEK'. EPISODE! AND THE PROMO FOR PAWN. If anyone would like to join me in fangirling, feel free to PM me.**

**stay shiny! **

**Allure**


	5. Chapter 5

Hi there *peeks out from behind sandbags* Sorry about that pesky "Not updating for almost two weeks" thing. Here we go!

"Hey, sweetheart."  
Someone was rubbing circles on her knuckles gently, the beeping of something and the click and whoosh of pressurized oxygen filtering through the last haze of sleep. She fluttered her eyelids weakly a few times and huffed. Why the hell were hospitals always so loud?  
The voice was back. What had she told Johnny about keeping her awake? Oh right, to NOT DO THAT.  
"Mumfph."  
Was he laughing at her? Excuse him, that was not cool.  
"I'm sorry babe, what was that?"  
"Hate you." Great, she still sounded like a goddam high school sophomore stoner. Fabulous.  
"Nooo you doon't..."  
Ouch, bright lights. Johnny's best shit-eating grin took up most of her (highly limited) vision. That bastard. So, Charlie proceeded to do what any mature adult would do in the situation.  
She stuck out her tongue at him. Which, of course, only sent the tremendously large jerkwad into more hysterics.  
He sobered quickly when she started coughing her lungs out. Serves him right.  
"Whoa, hey... easy now."  
She hated the stupid moving beds. HOOOOO boy. Dizzy much, Charlie? She moaned, thoroughly winded and mostly sore (stupid stitches) and let her head fall back against the bed with a dull floof.  
"Still feelin' bad, huh?"  
Well duh, Johnny. pneumonia didn't go away in like 2 hours. In fact, Charlie was pretty sure she felt worse than she had when she'd popped her stitches. Was that even possible?  
"Like someone duct-taped my throat closed. God. I feel absolutely awful." DId her voice just crack? Dammit.  
She did feel pretty bad, though. It felt like an entire football team had decided to sit on her chest. At once. She had never, ever, been drunk enough for a headache or nausea this bad, and she had been pretty damn hammered in her lifetime. More than once, actually, but that was waaaay beyond the point. If she didn't have supplemental oxygen, she'd probably pass out in 5 seconds. DId she mention she would like a cough drop?  
Johnny's hand was on her forehead like a worried mother. Cluck cluck mother hen. She'd tease him about it later. RIght now she was too fucking tired for that shit.  
"You want me to get a nurse?"  
"Nah, I'm ok." She felt like crying. She just wanted to be at home, on the couch, watching SVU reruns she'd seen a million times while Johnny teased her about Elliot Stabler's looks. Was that too much to ask?  
"Johnny?" Oh, here come the waterworks...  
"What's up, babe? You in pain?"  
"Nah, nah, I just... I wanna go home, Johnny."  
"Charlie.. That's a bad idea."  
"Please just ask, Johnny. Please?"  
"Dammit, Charlie... You're really sick, Chuck. Pneumonia isn't something to fuck around with, ok? Especially not after the week you've had. Just sit tight for a few more days."  
"Please?"  
"It's a bad idea, Charlie. A very bad idea. You'd be left alone if something happened."  
"I'm a big girl, Johnny. I can take care of myself."  
"You can't sit up without getting dizzy."  
"Whatever. Paige has the week off."  
"And Paige spends her week off drunk off her ass. She's useless."  
"Come on, Johnny. All I'm gonna do is watch TV and cough my lungs out. It's not like I'll run off."  
"Fine. One condition."  
"I'll have your babies, just get me the hell out. This place is making me itchy."  
"That wasn't the condition, but..."  
"Don't get your hopes up for that anytime soon, dude. Just tell me the condition."  
"What happened?"  
"You mean..."  
"Yeah, Chuck. Why did I find you passed out on the floor of your bedroom with your stomach ripped open and blood splattered all over everything?"  
She swallowed audibly, her stomach churning at the vivid description.  
"I went to see Marko. I just wanted to see if he had any leads on Odin Rossi. He was trippin out bad, Johnny. Like really bad. I could hear him screamin' at nothin' from the hallway."  
"Dammit Charl-"  
"Let me finish. I knocked on the door anyways. Don't you look at me like that. I was worried about him. He let me in, and the minute I was in the door, he had me pinned to the wall and had a damn paring knife draggin' across my stomach. He pulled the knife out and then ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I ran for my car."  
"Dammit. Why didn't you call me?!"  
"Johnny..."  
"Why, Charlie?"  
"I didn't think it was that bad."  
"I don't care. If you get hurt, you call me."  
"I'm sorry."  
He pressed the call button. Yikes. Nice going, Charlie. Way to piss him off.  
"We're not done talking about this, ok, Chuck?"  
The door opened. Saved by the bell, er, nurse.  
She was less than stellar at keeping up with the conversation. Good job, Charlie. Making Johnny mad was difficult in the extreme and she seemed to be really, really good at it. Dammit.  
"Aye, Chuckie!"  
Whoops.  
He was rubbing circles on her hand again.  
"Well, they don't want you to leave. You're still pretty messed up. But they can't keep you here against your will."  
"Just get me the release papers."  
"Charlie, I still think this is a bad idea."  
She sighed. He was right, of course. He was normally right. She reached up and tapped his cheek gently.  
"I know, Johnny."

Alright, Y'all. Chapter 5 is complete! Hopefully I'll be better at updating this and Steel and Keys, which, if you haven't checked out yet, will be a little bit more exciting than this. Give it a try! Also, shoutout to walkingtallagainsttherain, who has recently posted the first chapter of her story entitled Car Crash. Check her out. She also has some pretty epic Les Mis fics for those of you that like that.  
Stay Shiny!  
Allure


	6. Chapter 6

Hey Y'All! Next chapter is here! Prepare yourself, people. Cain shall be raised.

"We're here, babe."  
She fell asleep. Whoops. Way to show she was ready to leave the hospital.  
"Charlie..."  
"Wha'?"  
"You comin'?"  
Oh right. They were going inside now. Personally, she was perfectly ok to continue sleeping in the passenger seat of Johnny's old Ford. It was pretty comfy.  
"Don't make me carry you."  
Jesus. That was exactly what her ego needed. She could walk by herself, contrary to popular belief. She pried her eyes open and leaned forward. Holy shit. Head rush. Johnny's hands steadied her and she blinked a few times, trying to focus on the dark garage around her. This "taking care of herself" fuckery was not off to a good start. Johnny may have been right, that little shit. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up.  
"See, I'm fi-" and she was going down, knees buckling and head spinning.  
"Yeah, I can see that." Johnny was carrying her. Her pride had just popped like a balloon. Charlie pressed her forehead to his chest. Her face was probably sauce red right now. Jeez.  
"Put me down."  
"No."  
"You suck."  
They were on the stairs now, her head pounding in time to Johnny's footfalls. He huffed once, shifting her in his arms.  
"What you been eatin'?"  
"Very funny, jackass."  
"Just trying to lighten the mood."  
He had a good point. Ever since she'd told him what happened, which, looking back, she had made a pretty stupid-ass move, good job Charlie, he'd been tense, quiet, a little nervous. It made her nervous. Johnny was- why was he stopping?  
"Dammit!"  
"What?"  
"Briggs doesn't know you signed out yet."  
They were in deep, deep shit. Briggs may have done the same thing three years ago, and five years ago, and probably even before that, but he was Briggs and she was Charlie (which, of course, meant he had some weird-ass protective streak going for her, and it had only gotten worse as of late, for reasons she really hated to think about) and Johnny was the well-meaning dumbass that was exceptionally soft for big brown eyes and half smiles who was gonna catch the severe tongue lashing sure to filter their way. Oh, who was she kidding, Briggs was going to skin them alive and then eat them for breakfast.  
"He's gonna kill us both."  
Johnny nodded sadly.  
"See you on the other side, Chuck."  
She laughed once, coughed three times, and Johnny turned the key in the lock.  
Briggs was standing right there.  
"Briggs-"  
"What the hell is she doing out of the hospital? Whose dumbass idea was this? She has pneumonia, Johnny. She can't even walk, I can see that much. They let you sign her out?"  
And the inevitable freakout had begun. Johnny gaped at Briggs like a fish out of water, stuttering and mumbling until Briggs cut him off with a wave of his hand.  
"Where in that thick, thick skull of yours did it seem like a good idea to let her come back home when she just came out of a coma two days ago?"  
In her defense, a week was practically a long nap. A baby coma, at most.  
"Briggs-"  
That was enough. From the both of them. Nothing was ever actually going to get said if they kept at this "one yelling, the other stuttering, rinse, repeat" thing for much longer. IT was her turn, and they had both better shut up and listen to her.  
"I asked to leave. Johnny tried to talk me out of it, alright, so the only person you should be flappin' your damn mouth at is me, Paul Briggs. And I don't suggest you do that just now."  
He softened a little. Amazing how arguing with someone who had been hovering between life and death not 48 hours earlier would take the fight right out of anybody, even Paul. She hated his pity so very much.  
"We'll talk about how stupid it was later,don't get me wrong Charlie, but it was really, really stupid-" The look she shot him could have defeated Nazi Germany in about five seconds. Briggs should, for all intents and purposes, be a smouldering pile of ash by this point.  
"... but right now, you look beat, Chuck." Thank you Jesus.  
She yawned weakly, an all too familiar sensation of... sweeping over her. Johnny set her down gently on the couch and she sunk into the cushions tiredly, barely noticing the hand that brushed her forehead as Johnny followed Briggs into the kitchen, presumably for a stiff drink. She let her eyes drift shut slowly, exhausted from not doing anything and sore from lying down for upwards of a week. An itch tickled her arm, growing more and more persistent. She was the biggest contradiction of terms right now.  
"-in bad shape..."  
"-don't know man, maybe we should-"  
"-She won't go back-"  
"-Paige-"  
"-I got comp time maybe I could-"  
"-That should work-"  
"-She's gonna go stir crazy-"  
Ugh. She had ears, guys. And she was perfectly capable of making her own life decisions. Them talking in the kitchen was making her increasingly nervous. She hauled herself off the couch, coughing into her fist as quietly (read:loudly) as she could and stumbled to the kitchen, losing her balance by the counter as Johnny whipped around from his position against the sink.  
"Charlie!"  
Briggs got to her first as her knees gave out and she sagged against his chest, vision greying out around the edges.  
"This kinda feels like withdrawal again, Paul." She coughed again, finally realizing what she hadn't earlier, why that swirly, itchy, sickish feeling was so familiar, hating how worried and weak she sounded, head still spinning, and squeezed her eyes shut, back on the boat that kept tipping and rocking beneath her. She was a huge dumbass... all heroin was was processed morphine. Who knew just how much morphine she'd had pumped through her system to lower pain response during her hospital stay. She'd been essentially high for over a week! Now that she was unplugged from the drip and hadn't taken any pain medication since she'd left the hospital, her body was going through withdrawal for the second time in oh, about a month. Charlie had done her research. This was bad. Very, very bad.  
"Yeah, I can imagine, huh, Chuck? They had you plugged up to a morphine drip for over a week and it wasn't but a month ago that you..." He trailed off, tightening his arms around her shoulders briefly.  
"I'm so sorry." Briggs never whispered like that. Never sounded so tired, at least not around the other members of the house.  
She hadn't realized she was crying until his hands brushed across her cheeks softly, wetness spreading across her face.  
"I can't go through that again..." She flinched as she caught sight of the paper bag holding her pain pills, fingers tapping nervously against Paul's back.  
"Throw them away."  
Johnny sighed.  
"Charlie, that's a bad plan."  
"I said, throw them away. I don't want to prolong the inevitable. Throw them out. Please."  
The sound of crinkling paper. The trash can lid opened and shut with a loud bang. She jumped, barely suppressing a yelp.  
Johnny crouched next to her and Briggs on the floor of the kitchen, rubbing the back of her hand softly.  
"This time, you don't have to do it alone, ok? I got your back, you just gotta let me in a little bit. Don't worry if it's messy, or long, cuss me out if you have to, but I'm not goin' anywhere this time around."  
"You always have my back, John."  
He grinned a shark's grin, and she cursed herself for melting a little.  
"Yeah, I do. That's what makes me awesome, right?"  
She laughed, still crying and curled on the cold wooden floor of the kitchen, still angry, still scared, but maybe not quite as scared or angry. He had the strangest effect on her, and some days she hated him for being able to see right through her. Today, she was pretty damn thankful for it.  
"Yeah, Johnny. You're awesome."

dear reviewer who keeps switchin Johnny with Briggs: bless your heart, honey.

Stay shiny!

Allure


End file.
